


Endless Wedge

by the_angst_alchemist



Series: Red Snow [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos doesn't cope well with death, Cecil doesn't cope well with being dead, Endless Wedge, M/M, Songfic, actually he's pretty chill but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6825832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_angst_alchemist/pseuds/the_angst_alchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years have passed since that snowfall way back when, and Carlos can still recall every second when he wasn't able to say those words to the man he cared about. So in order to keep that broken voice preserved in his mind, he's kept his own voice quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endless Wedge

Carlos could feel the chill of winter once again as his feet crunched through snow for about the fifth time since he had entered Night Vale. It was the second snowfall he had seen in this town, and somehow this time the sun seemed brighter and the snow seemed colder. He wrapped his lab coat tighter as a breeze brushed by his half-whitened hair, and he moved a stand behind his ear distractedly. He looked around vacantly, as he appeared to be expecting to see someone there. No one appeared to be the person he was searching for.   
A few of the younger kids were playing nearby. He looked at them for an instant, and sat down on a bench, staring at one specific spot on the ground. The snow that had been there seven years back had long since melted away but he still remembered seeing that snowy ground stained red, Cecil's face pale as the white snow around him as he crumpled to the ground. Carlos could still recall Cecil's voice, laughing and making jokes over the air, but he was unsure if anyone else could remember after years and years.  
Carlos rested a hand on the bench, and automatically turned in expectation of another hand being laid on his own. No one was there, no one was even able to lay a hand on his. Cecil couldn't hold his hand now, no matter how much Carlos wished. They were too far apart, by both time and space. Wherever Cecil was now, Carlos only hoped it was a better place than where he was stuck, here in Night Vale. He had been alone here for seven years, and he still had some regret for not telling Cecil the words that Cecil had been so willing to say every day.  
Carlos could still remember every word that Cecil had written in those last few days; he could still remember Cecil's voice trembling yet still saying "I love you"; he could still remember being unable to say the same words back no matter how much he wanted to. Carlos could still see Cecil's bright smile of glee just to see Carlos walking through the door. He could still recall Cecil listening, and how he always cared. But more than anything, Carlos could remember how he had fallen in the snow, never to get up again.  
Carlos looked at the world around him, holding one arm close and still resting the other on the frozen bench in the hope of someone resting their own hand upon his. He still had every memory of Cecil talking about the dog park, emergency press conferences, what all was illegal... It seemed impossible to have all these memories and no one he could truly share them with-it was only Cecil with whom he wished to speak. Anyone else, and he had decided to remain mute instead of speaking a word towards them. A vow to Cecil in a situation where Cecil had no voice, so why should Carlos?  
Cecil had remained in the same spot for seven years: buried beneath the break room in Night Vale Community Radio Station. Carlos hadn't visited once, since he had been unwilling to remind himself that Cecil was truly and completely gone. Carlos hadn't been willing to go there since that day, but he had gone twice: Once to give a report on science and how his experiments were going, and once to go to a party that was being thrown for some occasion which he had forgotten. Neither had gone the greatest.  
His hands trembled with emotion as Carlos lowered his head. He couldn't take this life. Not alone. Carlos stood, heading to his lab to try and do anything that mattered at all. It wasn't easy to keep going. It never would be. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out, broken, and had a doorstop shoved into it to keep him from ever healing from the moment Cecil had fallen. A wedge deep in his heart, stuck there forever, keeping him dreaming about the day that he would finally see Cecil again.  
He had cared so much for Cecil in those final weeks. Carlos had been by his side, helping him every step of the way. He had been there for the calm times and the crazy times, the good, the bad, and the ugly. He had been with Cecil when he had finally cried over a dead body, unable to save him. He had been there for everything, and yet there was one thing that he hadn't ever been there for: Finally telling Cecil how he truly felt. Cecil had died without knowing, and he never would get a chance to know. After all, he was so perfect. So handsome. So amazing. Just being with Carlos always had made Cecil freeze up in panic of messing something up in that adorable way of his. Carlos wanted--No, needed--to tell Cecil the truth, how lovely he was, yet it was far too late now.  
Like every day without Cecil, Carlos's day seemed useless and dull. It passed without much incident, leaving him lying awake at the end of the day in a bed empty except for him, just as it always left him. He couldn't sleep, just as he couldn't every night. He looked to the side, where he wished yet again to see Cecil. No one was there, just shadows. He sighed, shutting his eyes, but he was unable to cry. His mind went back to Cecil once more, and his eyes opened for just a second, hopeful. There was still no one there.   
He didn't want to be alone anymore, and yet there was no other person still on this Earth he'd like to spend his time with if Cecil wasn't here. He couldn't go a moment without thinking about him and how much he should have said something when he still had the chance. He opened his eyes after a long moment of silence, praying to anyone who would listen, in the hope that maybe, just maybe, Cecil would hear him.  
There was a shape of a figure in the chair beside the bed, or perhaps that was just tired eyes cruelly lying to a broken man. He sat upright, and turned to the shape. "Cecil--" he started. His voice was as hoarse as Cecil's had been so long ago, and he coughed. "Cecil, is that you? I-it's me, Carlos." He felt like an idiot, talking hoarsely to nothingness, but there was always that slim chance somewhere that this was Cecil, that he was listening, and that Carlos could finally say goodbye. Carlos cleared his throat, racking his mind for what he needed to say.  
"I... I don't know if you can hear me. But if this really is you, Cecil, I hope that wherever you are now, it's better than where I'm left--here, alone, and without you. I'll never forget you. I don't know if anyone ever is going to mean as much to me as you do, or did, or whatever. And more than anything, Cecil, I love you." Carlos swallowed, looking up at the shape. "I love you more than there are grains of sand in this entire desert. I love you more than the sky extends above us. I even love you more than science, Cecil. That's all I know for sure anymore. I love you, and you... You probably can't even hear me saying this..." Carlos looked away. He was keeping too much hope. This wasn't Cecil; Cecil was gone now.  
A feeling of pressure on his back and a creak of the bed signaled to Carlos that the shape had sat down next to him. It was slightly more visible due to the closeness, but it was still mostly transparent. What Carlos could see, though, was the faint shadow of a gentle smile and the echo of something purple where a neck would be if there was an actual person sitting beside him. Cecil. The instant Carlos realized that this truly was Cecil, though, Cecil vanished to the wind through Carlos's open window, gone in an instant. Carlos watched him go, silently, and stood at the window until he watched the faint shape vanish. Cecil was out there, he assured himself. And wherever he was, he knew the truth now.


End file.
